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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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http://www.archive.org/details/monarchotherpoemOOflag 



THE MONARCH 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 



JOHN H. FLAGG 




PRIVATELY PRINTED 

NEW YOEK 
1902 



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COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY JOHN H. FLAGG 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



Published December ; IQ02 



Printed by 

CARROLL J. POST. Jr. 

New York 



To Edward Quintard, whose skillful 
service as a physician and unfailing devotion 
as a friend have made me a dottble debtor, 
I inscribe these pages in lasting gratitude. 

J, H. F. 



c 



-A 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

DEDICATION Ill 

THE MONARCH 1 

THE BROOK 5 

WILLIAM McKINLEY 9 

ON A DEWDROP 10 

CHILDHOOD'S HOME 11 

CAPTIVITY 21 

THE VOICE OF THE ROSE 22 

MOUNT BLANC T] 

TO JUSTIN S. MORRILL 29 

THE SERENADE 32 

CLARK AND THE OREGON 35 

A MEMORY 43 

THE TESTY DEACON 46 

COLUMBIA 6l 

I THINK OF THEE 63 

THE WOODS 65 

VERMONT 69 

the return 72 

the alchemist 78 

childhood's dream 79 

the awakening 84 

the final voyage 87 

undaunted 92 

across the street 95 

to marjorie '. 99 

the prodigal 101 



POEMS 



THE MONARCH. 




ehold! — The Monarch, Time, am I, 
Whom none shall balk nor dare deny! 
I will supreme in every clime 
Where man would make my deeds a crime , 
And thrones that rule mankind through awe, 

To me decree no binding law ! 
Before a mortal crown was worn 

Or pompous king or queen was born 
My sceptre swung from every throne — 
My mandates rang from zone to zone. 



My mission here is to despoil — 

To do it well, my only toil; — 
Man's ceaseless sob and pleading prayer 

To my dull ear no wailings bear. 
I work alone, and have no friend 

To praise, encourage or commend. 
With muffled feet I stride ahead 

And make no sound where'er I tread. 
As youth and health to me belong, 

I need no rest to keep me strong, 
And weary not by day nor year 

In loading death upon my bier, 
Nor reaching down into the grave 

To turn to dust what Nature gave. 

Behold my work already done 

With yet my purpose scarce begun ! — 

Where tropic suns now smite the earth 

Gleamed icebergs once, of ponderous girth; 



Where ocean billows once leapt high 

Now Chimborazo cleaves the sky; 
Where primal Rome was hewn and reared 

Five Romes in turn have disappeared; 
Where Karnak raised her mighty walls 

The sluggish reptile creeps and crawls; 
Where Charthage stood and held her sway 

Wild forest beasts pursue their prey. 

The lord of skies and seas and lands , 

1 spare no work of human hands! — 
The sculptured forms by genius wrought; 

The monuments where heroes fought; 
The chiselled altars hewn from stone; 

The palaces where kings are grown; 
Earth's navies on the salted seas; 

The mitred pope on bended knees; 
The fanes upreared by pious hands; 

The pyramids on Egypt's sands; 



Man's castles and his rustic homes; 

His temples with their gilded domes; 
His campaniles and his towers 

Where tolls the knell of passing hours; 
His treasures, trophies, battle-won; 

His states and empires scarce begun — 
Alike shall perish with the rest 

And turn to dust at my behest! 

Yet mark besides what is to be 

And naught can frustrate my decree ! — 
Proud Aetna's flames shall cease to burn 

And glaciers melt and freeze in turn; 
To nebulae I ' 11 change the earth 

And pay back Nature's debt with dearth: — 
I ' 11 pluck the planets from the skies 

(Which dazzle now man's wondering eyes) 
And then blot out the blazing sun 

And turn to vapor whence begun : — 
Then, midst the waste, behold my throne — 

A Monarch still , though left alone ! 



THE BROOK 




am the brook, the nimble brook, 
Born in my tranquil, shaded nook 
Mid solemn hills and mountain peaks 
Where nature every language speaks. 



Unlike the footed beasts of earth — 
So frail and helpless at their birth — 

I straightway creep, then stride, then run, 
To greet my first uprising sun. 



On, on I rush with quickened pace 

And force my way from place to place, 

While lesser brooklets eager flow 
To swell my volume as I go. 



The alders nod when I pass by; 

The reeds and rushes courtesy; 
And where the lilies rise and float 

I suck rare nectar from each throat . 



When I grow weary or depressed 
I loiter at my pools to rest, 

Then hurry on with doubled haste 
To catch the hours allowed to waste. 



6 



When lo, I'm throttled as I wend 
And harnessed like a beast to lend 

My help to man's dependent hand 

Which halts me with its rude command 



Thus forced, I tread man's endless wheel; 

I grind his grist and mould his steel; 
His looms I work with faithful hand, 

And all his varied arts expand. 



But soon I break from this embrace 
And hasten from the servile place, 

But grieve to find I've grown ten fold 
Since down the mountain-side I bowled 



At length I wake, as from a dream, 
To find myself a tidal stream 

That brings rank sea-salt to my tongue, 
A taste unknown when I was young. 



And now I hear the ocean roar 
And tremble at my fate in store ; 

I scent his breath and quail with awe, 
But helpless, yield to Nature's law; - 



To Nature's law I bow content, 

That law which none can circumvent: 

The hand that lifts the oceans' tide 
Will reach to me and then abide ! 



8 



WILLIAM McKINLEY. 




rue to each trust and best when trusted most , - 
For Country first , though facing peace or war , - 
Making, in peace, its greatness greater still, 
While yet in war his young but manly breast 

On many a blood-soaked, death-strewn battle-field 
Was bared to shield a Nation's heart from harm. 

This man of God, born fit to lead the way 
And lift mankind to nobler, loftier heights, 

Alas! by Anarch's poisoned fang lies slain! 
And when he fell, lo, in remotest lands 

Were mingled tears and solemn , tolling bells 
Proclaiming anguish equal to our own . 

That blameless life, — that apt, sagacious tongue, 
Though hushed on earth forevermore, yet speak 

As with an angel's trumpet and declare 
The better life is lingering with us still . 

September , igoi . 



ON A DEW DROP. 




hat is that chaste, that spark- 
ling thing, 

Which to the rose at dawn 
doth cling, 
And nestled near its throbbing breast 
Plays ardent lover while a guest? 



'Tis but a tear oi weeping night — 
The weeping oi" a glad delight — 

Till startled by obtruding day 

Night, tearing capture, steals away, 



10 



CHILDHOOD'S HOME 




dreamed of busy childhood days, 

where sunshine ever clung , 
^Back in my country home again 
when this old heart was young ; 
Through one brief hour of ecstacy, when every 

thought was bliss, 
With manhood's cares forsaken, what spell could 
be like this ? 



1 1 



My ravished eyes sought every place — each 
object they once knew — 

With nothing changed in all these years and 
nothing added new; 

Transfixed I stood amid the scenes so long ob- 
scured from sight , 

As through the windows shone, I thought, a 
consecrated light. 

I saw the row of flower-pots upon the window- 
sill, 

Wherein grew sweet geraniums that drooped 
with thirst until 

At sunset mother sprinkled them, and ibndled 
each with care : — 

Methought, to gladden my return, their frag- 
rance was still there. 



12 



I saw the old melodeon whose notes I'd 
often heard 

Commingled with my mother's voice that hal- 
lowed every word; 

This , long since , joined the choir unseen in an- 
thems sung on high : — 

I sometimes think I hear it now through cloud- 
rifts in the sky. 



In yonder nook — its 'customed place — stood 

father's old oak chair — 
Descended from ancestral lines — a gift from heir 

to heir; — 
As if to stay each stranger hand and shield it from 

all harm , 
A spider here had spun her web outstretched from 

arm to arm . 



*3 



How often here I'd clambered to my father's 

waiting knee , 
To hear his thrilling stories told of deeds on land 

and sea, — 
Of Indian scalpers on the plains, — of pirates fierce 

and bold, — 
Of hunters' daring for wild beasts — and others 
search for gold . 

Here was the book-case just as when, at pleasant 

evening time , 
I searched the well-worn volumes through for 

picture or for rhyme : 
For just plain books I did not care , — they baffled 

me with lore — 
Whatever one I tried to read I soon declared a 

bore. 



H 



There hung the old gilt mirror still, near to the 
parlor door, 

Where I'd intently gazed upon my new clothes 
from the store , 

And once had donned my brother's suit when to 
the glass I ran , 

To see how big and brave I'd look when 1 be- 
came a man . 



There stood the same old kitchen stove, where 

many a nipping day, 
I'd held my freezing, outstretched hands when I 

came in from play; 
This good old friend had one grave fault — it 

burned out wood so fast — 
I lugged it in incessantly, until the cold months 

passed . 



15 



Its glowing sides my mother sought in patient 

willing toil, 
To make the good things for us all that careless 

cooks might spoil; 
She always baked me special pies and cookies, 

cakes, galore, 
And yet I claimed I grew so fast I needed 

just one more . 



There peered the old remorseless clock that 

watched me argus-eyed, 
And when my bed-time hour arrived my 

patience oft had tried; 
'Twas then I claimed it ran too fast, while 

mother claimed 'twas slow; — 
Whatever my contention was I always had to 

go— 



16 



Go to my far-off attic bed when mother led 

the way, 
Whose candle and assuring words my fears did 

not allay; — 
She bore away the candle, after kissing me 

good-night, 
But all through life I've felt that kiss and seen 

that vanished light. 

There was the same old ample shelf that father 

called his own, 
Where he kept Bible, pipe and pen and all 

odd things were thrown; 
Beneath it, hung the almanac, that said in 

letters bold, 
"About this time look out for squalls" — which 

prophecy controlled. 



17 



I heard the rattling Autumn hail upon the 
window-pane , 

Forewarning that dread Winter days were steal- 
ing back again; 

Thanksgiving was approaching, too, — that boon 
from old Cape Cod, — 

Ordained by pious Pilgrim sires, in gratefulness 
to God. 



I whistled then for dear " old Jack ," who hasten- 
ed to my side , — 

That noble , true , confiding friend — my comrade 
and my pride; 

Where'er I strayed he too must go, — I always 
felt his touch , — 

'Twas hard to call him but a brute, he knew 
and felt so much . 



18 



We wandered then down to the brook beyond 
our sugar-place, 

Where often at the old mill-hole I'd stood and 
bobbed for dace, 

And once a big trout took my bait — I quiver- 
ed with delight — 

Until my line caught on a snag quite hidden 
from my sight. 

Throughout that Summer, day by day, at 

dawn, at noon, at eve, 
I vainly angled for that trout more hours than 

you'd believe; 
But while he thus outwitted me, I learned 

from Nature's book, 
That boys can never be true boys unless they 

haunt some brook. 



l 9 



I woke to find these vanished scenes of child- 
hood's cherished hours 

A dream of what they once had been , and only 
perished flowers; 

Yet glad and grateful e'en for this, I search 
through memory's path 

And pluck with joy each perfumed leaf from 
Dreamland's aftermath. 



20 



CAPTIVITY. 




hy tender, thoughtful, earnest eyes — 
Within their tranquil depths there lies 
A magic power, unknown to thee, 
That chains me in captivity. 

The morning light the brighter grows 
Wherever their effulgence glows, 

And e'en at night their potent ray 
Converts the darkness into day. 

So would my pathway through each year 
Of life's contending hope and fear, 

Be made one blissful, hallowed spell, 
Should such supernal light there dwell. 



21 



THE VOICE OF THE ROSE. 




nce happy I , when lone I dwelt , 
And ne'er a stranger's hand 

M i felt,— 

The hedge-row, lane and upland mine, 
Companioned with the herds and kine. 



I then knew well each sister's face, 
Her gentle smile and growing grace, 

While blooming there through summers long 
With honied bees and birds of song . 



22 



But oft I've seen, with trembling fear, 
Some idle school-boy loitering near 

To pluck me in my morning pride , 
When I my blushing face would hide 



Through days we've watched, and each in turn, 
For moving bush, or bending fern, 

To warn against intrusions there, 

That we our humble lives might spare. 



While thorns that guarded each frail flower, 
True to their trust, enforced their power, 

Yet still some ruthless hand each day 

Would pluck and bear our best away, — 



2 3 



Away perchance to stifling air 

To pour reluctant fragrance there, 

Unnoticed by the boisterous throng 

Whose wine provokes their maudlin song; 



Or where in shame and worse despair 
'Twere tangled in some harlot's hair, 

And through the long and hideous night 
Would languish, fade and die affright; 



Or where Love's gentle voice is heard — 
Mute witness to each spoken word — 

Where his impassioned vows reveal 

The rapture which young lovers feel; — 



24 



Or where it decks the trembling bride 
When kneeling at the altar-side; 

Or to her pathway where 'twould lend 
A fragrant Springtime to the end. 



Or where the broken-hearted prays 
When fade life's gorgeous sunset rays, 

With speechless lips and reverent head 
Its incense there is gladly shed; — 



And we an equal homage yield 

To those whose faults were not concealed ;- 
With joy we linger at the grave 

Which man condemned, but God forgave." 



25 



Thus spoke the lowly-hearted rose 
And told its pleasures and its woes; 

So henceforth let man's friendly hand 

Guard well these wonders God hath planned, 



And treat them as a sacred trust 
(For they ask not but what is just) 

And spare them from pollution where 
Their gracious fragrance fills the air — 



Since only in the heavenly thought 
Were such ethereal marvels wrought : - 

Our souls, by sparing these frail things, 
Are lifted as by angel wings. 



26 



MOUNT BLANC. 




ternal Mount, whose brow serene 
Rests pillowed on the clouds, 
half-seen , 
What longing thy abode inspires 

In human hearts — what vast desires! 



'Tis not decreed that mortal clod 

Should dwell on earth and still with God, 
But thou , reared from the lowly vale , 

Dost in supernal realms prevail. 



2 7 



And then, as if thou hadst a soul 
Pervading its celestial goal, 

Thou hast attained and wearest now 
A spotless mantle for thy brow. 



And He who did a promise give 

That man shall more than mortal live, 

Renews that emblem day by day, 
That it may never fade away. 



Thus, hallowed Mount, from realms divine 
Thy coronet shall ever shine — 

A beacon , beaming far and wide , 
For weary, wayward feet a guide! 

Chamounix , Aug. joth^ 1873. 



28 



TO JUSTIN S. MORRILL. 

(A Senator of the United States from 1867 to 1899.) 

ON HIS EIGHTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY, 
APRIL I4.TH, 1893. 




ike some o'ertowering forest oak that still 
Withstands the winds of four-score years 
and more, 



While growths of younger years uprooted 
fall,— 
Hoary with ripened leaf, but tried and strong 



29 



Thou standest waiting for those rapturous 
days 
When blooming fields, kissed by the vernal 
sun, 
With fragrant breath speak gratitude. 

We hail thee now with fonder , firmer grasp , 
Thankful to Him who rules all destines, 

That, well-nigh shivered by the furious blast ! 

Which bent thee low and made all hearts 

despair , 

Thou'rt left the stronger by the gale , and still 

Can with thy friends rejoice this natal day 

To stand on earth though gazing into heaven ! 

And yet for worth and fame and all that makes 
Life grand and great, thou surely hast no 
need 

To further go . Within the wondrous time 
Wherein thou led'st the panting legions on, 

i A serious illness. 



3° 



The fettered have been freed, and hushed the 
sounds 

Of cursed war whose awful uproar once 
Convulsed the troubled land from sea to sea . 

Saved is the State, and hostile cannon now 
Are molded into pryamids of peace ! 

The eager throngs that crowd our shores to join 
The Nation's jubilee, 2 may marvel much 

Before the temple thou hast helped to rear 
To law and justice long denied, and mark 

The mighty march of an enfranchised race 
Toward the blood-bought rights of men . 

Old friend, 
Thy well-earned rest has come . A grateful State 

Whose every cause was served so long , so well , 
Withholds no added honor from thy name, 

But prays that thou shalt have forevermore 
The crowning peace thou hast for others won! 

2 World's Columbian Exposition in 1893. 



3 1 



THE SERENADE 




he smiling stars shine o'er my head, 
For now the longing day hath fled 
Whose hours seemed more than 
years to me 
Because they held me far from thee, — 



32 



From thee my sweet, my precious rose, 
Now lost in dreams and soft repose — 

In dreams of some far world of bliss, 
For thou wert made too pure for this. 



An Ariel would I gladly be, 

And were I one I'd bear to thee 

The choicest flowers that bud and bloom 
To shed round thee their rare perfume . 



I'd lure birds from their chosen climes 
To sing for thee their sweetest rhymes, 

For thy rare beauty would inspire 

Their raptured souls with such desire . 



33 



O wake and listen to my song — 

That which hath pressed my heart so long- 
And thus assuage its throbbing pain 

Though passion's fire shall still remain! 



But if thy slumbers thou shalt keep , 
Of me I crave one thought may creep 

Into thy visions, pure and blest, 

And then content this heart can rest. 



34 



CLARK AND THE OREGON. 




he Oregon at anchor lay, within the 
Golden Gate, 

And far remote from surging 
waves — a thing inanimate — 
When came an order, urgent, brief, to make 

for Callao, 
And there await — for war might be — and with 

no dastard foe. 
"All hands to anchor!" shouted Clark; then 
tugged each groaning chain, 

And, ere the night, that battleship was plough- 
ing through the main. 



35 



And from that grave and anxious hour, for tid- 
ings still to learn, 
She rushing, left her foaming wake, for lengths 

and lengths astern; 
Along Pacific's coast she sped, as ship ne'er 

sped before, 
Led by the Southern Cross whose beam each 

wave in sequence bore. 
Callao reached, late orders read, at once for 

Rio sail, — 
Then on she swept, like mountain mist, before 

a raging gale. 
She leapt into Magellan's jaws — more dreaded 

than armed foes — 
And safe beyond their reefs and rocks, wild 

cheer on cheer arose. 



36 



What though Cervera's fleet were met ? — what 

though in wait it lay? — 
Such danger made her falter not, but eager for 

the fray. — 
What though her sailors hungry went, and 

knew not sleep, nor rest, 
If, yielding what they needed most would serve 

their country best? 
The sturdy stokers, nigh outworn, still hotter 

made the fires, 
And not a man, though parched with thirst, 

once stopped to quench desires. 
The North Star struggled from afar to throw 

its potent ray — 
That beacon which the brightest burns when 

lighting Freedom's way. 



37 



Toward its beam, through wind and wave, the 

battleship swept on, 
While Clark stood constant on the bridge and 

watched for lurking Don. 
At length, she entered Rio's port, where late 

dispatches bore 
News that the dogs of war were loosed and 

bayed along our shore. — 
Then like a meteor she swept on to join our 

fleet away 
At Santiago's armored gate, where it held Spain 

at bay. 
The engineers, unconscious grown, by stifling 

air, alack, 
When borne to deck and half restored, tried 

hard to stagger back; 



38 



And though this sovereign of the sea five thou- 
sand leagues had run, 

This paragon of battleships, as fresh as when 
begun, — 

With Clark at helm — with crew elate , — (this 
more than welcome guest) — 

Unhalting, pushed to Sampson's line, then 
proved herself his best. 

That Sabbath morn had calmly dawned , and 

through the languid air 
Came far, faint sounds of convent bells that 

called to grateful prayer; 
But Oh! what crashing thunders break when 

now the foemen meet! — 
For look you there, — on swiftly comes Cer- 

vera's royal fleet — 



39 



Defiant, and with war-like mien, out through 

the narrow bay! 
All-desperate, they open fire and force the 

awful fray, 
But Sampson's roaring guns reply, "You're wel- 
come here, come on!" — 
And furies of a thousand hells are gathered 

here in one! 
Through smoke and fume the battle waged , 

and every shell we sent 
Was planted where it counted most, and where 

our gunners meant: — 
Then, leading all, the Oregon leapt foremost 

to the van, 
And raked and riddled with her shells, each 

deck that bore a man, — 



40 



While Clark forgot his corining-tower, where 

danger was the least, 
And on his forward turret stood, where danger 

never ceased. 
The Spainards read their tragic fate in their 

doomed cruisers' light, 
And all aflame, dashed on the shore, and thus 

gave up the fight. 

Henceforth, on fame's eternal page, the Oregon 

will shine, 
And Clark — that brave "Green-Mountain Boy" — 

will be in every line, — 
That hill-born hero of the waves, whose name 

revered will be, 
So long as valor has a place in annals of the 

sea. 



41 



Elsewhere they vaunt their pedigrees, and boast 

of "royal blood," 
But through his veins coursed "royal blood" 

not made by man, but God — 
The kind that captured old "Fort Ti.," and 

won at Bennington, 
Where grand old Stark the Hessians fought, 

until the sinking sun. 
While Clark and Dewey tread our decks — 

those peerless of our brave , — 
From every mast, on every breeze, "Old 

Glory" still shall wave! 



42 



A MEMORY. 




looked upon such wondrous face, 
Such beauty, such surpassing 
grace, 
Had ever artist once portrayed 

The faultless features I surveyed, 
He would thereby have won a name 
Still absent from the page of fame . 



43 



While thus I gazed, intent, beguiled, 
The vision moved, and then it smiled, 

And o'er a harp flew two white hands 
Like mated swallows o'er the sands. 

Methought, what wondrous magic brings 
Such melting strains from those mute strings. 

Then Nature — not content to spare 
One gift or grace from her so fair — 

She sang. Such sweet and tender notes 
Could only come from angel throats; — 

A praising saint could not compare 

With sounds so touching and so rare. — 



44 



First came the warble of a bird; — 

Then but a human voice was heard; — 

Then some yet more impassioned strain 
Infused my pulse and thrilled my brain. 

As o'er the strand the billows roll, 

This lapped and laved my raptured soul 

But vain, indeed, it were to ask 

Of artist hand — unequal task — 
To portray half the gifts divine 

Embodied there in every line, — 
For, had one sought by art to trace 

The beauty of that matchless face , 
The vision would have dazed the brain, 

And moveless must that hand have lain. 



45 



THE TESTY DEACON 




was down in the old Pine Tree 
state 

Where chanced to pass what I 
relate , — 
The land where pies and cakes abound, 
And Yankees at their best are found; 



Where natives serve their pork and beans 
In methods fit for kings and queens, 

And where French gastronomic art 
Is not in vogue in any part. 



46 



'Twas in a rural farming town 

(That never yet had won renown) 

Where dwelt a farmer — Ephraim Hale 
The subject of this woful tale. 



Now " Deacon Eph " as he was called 

Wore well his years, though long since bald, 

And seemed to lead a righteous life 
Though mighty testy with his wife. 



Long deacon in the village church 

His goodly name had known no smirch; 

His neighbors all were proud that he 
Should such a model neighbor be. 



47 



Now one grave fault the deacon had 
Which was a temper, always bad; 

And this he lashed with passion's whip 
And made it sting at every clip. 



With Yankee thrift he money made 
By keeping geese that often strayed 

Unto his neighbor's very door 

And wrecked his garden o'er and o'er, 



One day this neighbor — Moses Slade 
- Espied them, while in ambush laid 
Each delving like a lusty Turk 
To ruin all his careful work. 



4 8 



He straightway ran and seized each goose 
And e're he turned the creature loose 

Slit through the web between its toes 
And made one foot just like a crow's . 



In panic then they hustled all 
To get beyond the garden wall, 

And chose the shortest route for home 
Without desire to further roam. 



They sought at once (by instinct led) 
The near-by pond where they were bred, 

And then proceeded, one by one, 
To navigate as they had done. 



49 



But lo! their calculations failed, 
And all acquatic ardor quailed 

When round and round their bodies spun, 
With not an inch of headway won. 



When thus the deacon found his geese, 
His rage foretold a breach of peace; — 

He swore revenge on neighbor Slade 
Though he through blood should have 
to wade. 



So, well disguised, the first dark night, 
He sought his neighbor's barn for spite, 

And seized the tail of his old mare 
And sheared it clean of every hair. 



5° 



Then farmer Slade was wroth in turn, 
And for revenge his heart did burn; — 

He swore he'd " pickle old Hale's hide , 
And drive him from the church beside 



He sought a Justice of the Peace , 
And, (keeping mum about the geese,) 

In his complaint discreetly swore 

Of what occurred the night before . — 



Therein he charged one Ephraim Hale, 
In legal terms — full of detail — 

With mutilating his old mare 

By shaving off her caudal hair . — 



51 



He further swore that the offense 

Arose from malice, called "prepense,' 

And that such act did violate 
The peace and dignity of State . 



He prayed the Justice there to grant 

A warrant for the miscreant, 
Which then was signed, with formal care, 

And with a grave, judicial air. 



'Twas with much craft that farmer Slade 

On Saturday his charge had made, 
So that arrest should fall that night 

And thus make worse the deacon's plight 



52 



Just at the hour of evening prayers 
Went forth the sheriff unawares 

To make arrest of deacon Hale 
And take him to the county jail . 



The deacon answered his loud knock 
As struck the hour of nine o'clock 

And warmly bade him enter in 
As if he were his fondest kin. 



The sheriff soon his mission told 
And then the warrant did unfold 

Which he read through in solemn tones 
Oft punctured by the deacon's groans. 



53 



Then Ephraim, who was much enraged, 
Tore like a tiger first encaged, 

And charged upon that viper, Slade, 
The outrage of this foul crusade . 



Though "Mother Hale" for mercy plead, 
And grievous tears in plenty shed, — 

All proved to be of no avail 

To save her raving spouse from jail . 



Full half that wretched night was o'er, 
When swung the jailor's ponderous door 

Through which the sheriff quickly passed 
Together with his charge , held fast . 



54 



The deacon still with anger burned, 
Yet meekly to the jailor turned, 

As if his mild and tender eye 
Betokened welcome sympathy. 



"Tell me," said he, "what can I do 

To make my hours here brief and few?" 

"Until you're tried, you must get bail," 
The jailor said, "or stay in jail." 



"That will I do," quoth Hale, "this night, 
And leave this den before day-light, 

Then to my church I'll promptly go 
And no one of this plight shall know." 



ss 



"You can't do that," the jailor said, 
" For Justice lies asleep in bed ; — 

Besides, the Sabbath's now well on 
And that, in law, is dies non." 



The deacon never closed his eyes, 
But all that night tried to devise 

The means whereby he might get bail 
And flee far from that cursed jail. 



That Sabbath day he gave to prayer, 

And thoughts of sacred things elsewhere ; — 

His waiting home; his weeping wife, 

And church he'd missed not once through 
life. 



56 



When bail, at length, had been obtained 
And Ephraim had his freedom gained, 

His homeward journey he began — 
A wiser, though much sadder man. 



But he, alas, in church and out, 
Had enemies who had no doubt 

That there was ample evidence 
To fix on him that grave offense 



A special meeting of the church 
Was called to instigate a search, 

And a committee chosen there 

Was sent to view the hapless mare 



57 



They found, indeed, the ancient brute 
Bereft of caudal growth hirsute, 

But not one fact to prove, withal, 
Who plied the art tonsorial. 



And so, their mission having failed, 
(A fact that most of them bewailed,) 

There seemed to be no earthly clue 

Which they with hope could then pursue 



But, while in vain they tried, each one, 
To learn by whom the deed was done, 

A tramp came sliding down the mow, 
Who told by whom, and when and how 



58 



He stated that on one dark night 
While in the barn, appeared a light, 

And that he "watched and saw old Hale 
With sheep-shears trim that hosses tail." 



"He knew" he said, "that old cuss well," 

And instances he then did tell, 
When from his watch-dogged house he'd fled 

While foraging for needful bread. 



From what they thus had seen and heard 
Their pious souls were deeply stirred, 

And all agreed, with prompt accord, 
To put the guilty to the sword, — 



59 



For now the church was up in arms, 
And for just once omitted psalms ; — 

Their model was in deep disgrace 

And in the church should have no place. 



From office he was then deposed; 

His name was dropped; his pew was closed, 
And neighbor Slade, who owned the mare, 

Was chosen deacon then and there . 



The lesson of this touching tale , 

While dearly bought by Ephraim Hale, 

Shows well how a few brainless geese 
A deacon taught to keep the peace ! 



60 



COLUMBIA. 




goddess, stay thy threatening hand 
From alien hosts in that far land 
Whose voice now rends the pity- 
ing sky 
With plaintive cries for liberty! 



6l 



The girdle 'neath thy throbbing breast 

Was forged from chains of those oppressed; 

The stripes upon thy stola — these 
Are blood-stains of thy votaries . 



The spangled cap that crowns thy head 
Was placed there by the martyred dead, 

Who braved and bled and died in vain, 
If struggling Freedom shall not gain . 



O, stretch thy helping arm to free 

The prostrate forms that kneel to thee, 

And give to men, unjustly blamed, 

The sacred rights thy birth proclaimed! 

January, 1899. 



62 



I THINK OF THEE. 




think of thee when, dim and gray, 
Belated, drowsy night is roused, 
And loath to go , half-clad and slow , 



Recedes before advancing day . 



I think of thee when anxious care 

Enslaves me through each labored hour; 

But toil were sweet, with joy replete, 
Could I for thee my burdens bear. 



63 



I think of thee with fonder heart , 

When day, commingling with the night. 

Prolongs his kiss of transient bliss 
Like lovers when enforced to part. 



Then in my hours of deep repose 

On thee my craving dreams still feast, 

Yet when I wake, with hunger's ache, 
My yearning but intenser grows. 



And thus my aching heart for thee 

Throbs on throughout each longing day, 

In wild desire, a quenchless fire, 
Till smothered by eternity. 



6 4 



THE WOODS. 




ain to the vaulted woods I go, where 
solitude doth reign, 
And seat me on some lichened rock, 
a brief surcease to gain 
From tumult of the maddening mart, where 

men contend for gold, 
And barter governs every thought, though lives 
be bought and sold. — 



65 



Here would I breathe the balsamed air, the 

freshness of the trees, 
And listen to the song of birds, and hum of 

gathering bees; 
Ah , here is peace , supernal peace , a paradise 

regained , 
Where man can soothe his troubled soul and 

feel himself enchained! 

Here spread the hemlocks' feathery wings; here 

lift the stately pines; 
Here, whitened birches whiter seem, by ruddy, 

clinging vines; 
Here, too, the fruitful chestnuts tower, and in 

the lengthening year, 
With bursting burrs and shining nuts the 

scampering squirrels cheer. 



66 



On yonder spruce, now spectral grown, and 

aged with countless ills , 
The lone woodpecker urgent raps, then listens 

where he drills 
To hear the toiling insect stir, where strips of 

bark yet cling, 
Then pecks again till one is found, and flies 
on fleeter wing. 

But hark! I hear the partridge drum, to call 

his absent mate; 
And then the silver-throated thrush his ecstacies 

relate ; 
The veeries and the vireos make all the woods 

rejoice , 
And rapture comes when whip-poor-wills add 

their enchanting voice. 



6 7 



God made no earthly place like this, to lull 

sad weary souls, 
Where Nature's untrained orchestra beguiles and 

then consoles; 
And as I tread the beaten path, down life's de- 

cending hill, 
The transports of this sylvan spot will haunt 

and cheer me still! 



68 



VERMONT. 




hy very name doth symbolize 
Thy verdant peaks that proudly 
rise, 
As if to buttress with their might 

The unpropped dome of heavenly light. 



69 



The beauty of thy matchless hills 
The ravished eye with rapture fills, 

While thy fair fields and fertile plains 

Bear flocks and herds and bounteous grains 



Thy Druid forests still conceal 

The eagles that high o'er them wheel 

And shelter well the panting deer 
When driven from the open near. 



Thy hillside homes and hamlets all 
Proclaim content and thrift withal; — 

No servile lines yet mark the face 
Of thy courageous, sturdy race. 



70 



Such land is thine , sons of thy birth , 
Whose sires, with blood, paid Freedom's 
worth; 

Who vanquished each invading foe 

And swept him back, or laid him low. 



No trembling slave yet breathed thy air 
Whose shackles longer bound him there 

For , by thy ancient Bill of Rights i 
All men stood equal on thy heights. 



O happy land, thus early blessed, 

Where all were free and none oppressed, 

Thank well those sires whose master hand 
Built from thy rock and not thy sand ! 

i Vermont was the first of the States to prohibit Slavery by- 
Constitutional Convention, viz., July, 1777. 



71 



THE RETURN. 




rom childhood's village, years away, 
I once more trod its lonely street, 
The morning of a summer's day, 
Nor saw one face to know and greet. 



72 



I crossed the bridge where once the stream 
Ran dark and deep and hurriedly, 

But now I saw — how like a dream — 
Its waters ripple languidly. 



I saw, near by, the school-house, where 

In torments of captivity, 
Full many a day, imprisoned there, 

Was to me an eternity. 



But where my school-mates, at their task, 
Were daily gathered, half the year, 

Desertion stared and seemed to ask: — 
"What stranger is now sauntering here?' 



73 



Hard by, the "meeting-house" still stood 
Where, in my boyhood, old and young 

Met in one common brotherhood 

To worship God with reverent tongue . 



How memory now brought in review 

My childhood friends once gathered there; 

The gray, now gone; the young I knew, 
Themselves now gray with years and care 



Methought, alas, how many score 
Had, in their last majestic state, 

Been brought from out its ample door 

To pass, since then, yon church-yard gate 



74 



I entered there among the dead; 

Then slowly strolled past chiseled stones, 
And here, anon, I paused and read 

The fond names of remembered ones. 



Such caravan of years had passed 

Since I this grass-grown path had trod, — 
'Twas now a marbled city vast, 

Of those whose souls repose with God. 



With heavy heart, I wandered on 

Through neighboring aisles still narrower. 

Until, at last, I came upon 

The hallowed spot where kindred were. 



75 



And standing, with its lines severe, 
Their marble monolith I viewed, — 

Pure as an angel's frozen tear, — 
Fit emblem of their lives renewed . 



But Nature comforts my sad heart, — 
For her enduring smiles here rest, — 

Where buds and blossoms fain impart 
A fragrance that seems hallowed, blest; 



Where suns first kiss the breast of Spring, 
And birds are lured from chosen ways, 

And, resting here their weary wing, 
Outpour their sweetest roundelays; — 



7 6 



Where blossoms hid amongst the bowers 
Are sought by humming birds and bees, 

Who bring their sweets from distant flowers 
To dwell enraptured here with these. 



And as o'er tides I'm swept along 

To wakeless dreams on sightless shore, 

My benediction would prolong 
Peace to their dust , forevermore ! 



77 



THE ALCHEMIST. 




hat peerless Alchemist, the heart, 
Transcending the magician's art, 
Imbues each tear, by passion 
wrought , 
With distillations of our thought. 



And hence emotion's laden tear 

Knows more than wisest sage or seer 

Or oceans vast, that ebb and flow, 
Of human joy and human woe . 



78 



CHILDHOOD'S DREAM 




h, blessed was that childhood day, 
When with sweet Alice, blithe 
and gay, 
I tripped adown the country lane, 

Her hand in mine — her gallant swain. 



79 



O, she was more than Saxon fair 
With sunbeams nestled in her hair, 

While from her gladsome, heaven-blue eyes 
One caught the gleams of paradise . 



Her lips were like two rubies set 

With pearls between — I see them yet 

As when she, blushing, to me said, 
" I love you , if you love me , Ned . " 



I answered in no doubting way, 
Down in the lane that joyful day; 

And thence our two hearts beat as one 
And few were hours they beat alone. 



80 



No darkening shadow, cloud or mist 
Pervaded that secluded tryst, 

But every sun shone full and fair 
And taught its rays to linger there. 



Life then was one sweet reverie; 

Its rhythm one fond melody; 
That melody one gentle voice 

Whose accents bade my heart rejoice 



But lo! what grief soon pierced my heart 
And sent its pang to every part 

When illness came, and Alice died, 

And wondering angels turned and sighed 



81 



And since that day, how vainly 1 
Have tried to solve life's mystery, — 

To understand why buds that bloom 
Should, ere their fruitage, reach their 
doom ; — 



Why childhood, fresh and fair and pure 
Should be the one for death to lure, 

While age is left to totter through 

Still other years, concealed from view. 



Life's noon had passed, ere once again 
I wandered through that hallowed lane, 

And lo, how changed! — few signs it bore 
That I had trod its path before. 



82 



I sought that humble cottage near, 

Which through my childhood was so dear, 

But found it not; where once it stood 
Were tangled weeds and blackened wood. 



With saddened heart I turned to go, 
But spied, hard by, a headstone low, 

Whereat I paused, and through my tears, 
Read — "Here lies Alice: aged ten years." 



83 



THE AWAKENING. 




t length the mystic touch of Spring 
Awakes the slumbering forms of 
earth, 

When Nature spreads her warming wing, 
And blesses all with glad rebirth. 



8 4 



Her breath infuses every breeze 
With odors and perfumes divine, 

Drawn from the blossomed apple trees 
And every fragrant bud and vine. 



Now robins sing their sweetest song — 
And bobolinks and orioles, — 

Sweetest because suppressed so long 

It bursts from out their brimming souls 



Now comes the chirp of building birds; 

The noisy caw of watchful crows; 
While from the hill-side's browsing herds 

The distant cow-bell's tinkle flows. 



85 



The blackbirds from the willows cry; 

The plover pipes in yonder bogs, 
And from the stagnant pool, hard by, 

Rise amorous murmurings of the frogs, 



Such mingled sweets and rhapsodies 
Soothe every sense with anodynes ; — 

In vain I strive, through languor's eyes. 
To comprehend God's vast designs! 



86 



THE FINAL VOYAGE. 




he night was starless, bleak and 
drear , 

And through the rigging one 
could hear 
The wild winds blowing, bearing moans 

Discordant to the ear, and groans 

Of ship , now tossed from side to side , 

As on she trembled o'er the tide. 



»7 



Yet plunged she through the stormy way, 
With throes that brought but pale dismay 

To stalwart hearts, appalled by fear, 
That sent to cheeks the anxious tear 

Lest kindred on a distant shore, 
Might wait, alas, forevermore. 

Beneath the deck's low, creaking beam, 
In calm repose and joyful dream , 

An aged mother, lone and ill, 

Throughout the tempest slumbered still, 

Whose lamp of life, with fading ray, 
Foretold her near and final day. 



88 



Long widowed, she had lived through toil 
On distant Scotland's storied soil; 

For , one by one , at man's estate , 
Their pulses strong, their hearts elate, 

Her sons had sought far western shores 
Where Plenty stood at opened doors. 

And thus, with all life's sunshine lost, 
Time touched her with its wilting frost; 

Then years grew long, and dark the way, 
Like shadows at departing day, 

And fondest of her dreams were fain 
To clasp and kiss her boys again . 



89 



Through night and storm and troubled sea 

She slumbered on in ecstacy, 
Still dreaming of her darling boys 

And future years of waiting joys; — 
But ere the cloud-swept sun arose 

Her soul had fled from all its woes. 



That morn so bright, in steerage lay — 
Its spirit fled — the mortal clay; 

And soon the sailors' heavy tread 
Bore to the deck the humble dead, 

In canvas shroud, with cordage bound, 
While wailing sea-gulls hovered round 



90 



Then near the dead and yet along, 

There huddled sailors, mute and strong, 

Who lowered down the vessel's side 
That muffled form to waters wide, 

Which sank beneath the wave's embrace, 
Whose sepulchre no kin can trace. 

For her no tolling bell was heard, 
Nor sob, nor sigh, nor spoken word; 

But memories yet will toll a knell 
In hearts that still remember well 

Their slumbers soft, and blissful rest, 
Upon that mother's loving breast. 



9 1 



UNDAUNTED 




ay, lingering at the western door, 
Looks back, with taper in his 
hand, 
And dimly lights the purple floor, 

Whereon approaching Night will stand. 



92 



Throughout the heaven's boundless height 
Hang twilight's lamps now burning low, 

But as they spy the goddess, Night, 

They greet her with their brightest glow 



She, stealing from her hidden bowers — 
Her faithful service to maintain — 

Patrols the dark and lonely hours, 

To guard, in turn, Day's vast domain 



Together, they, like sentinels, 

Have paced through centuries that were, 
Which, huddled in their mouldy cells, 

Repose in Time's vast sepulchre. 



93 



Since parting at primeval dawn — 
When last he saw her beauteous face 

Day has pursued this nimble fawn 
With yearning heart and eager pace. 



Unwearied by his futile chase; 

Undaunted, too, by cruel fate, 
Yet yearning for one fond embrace, 

Each morn he bursts the Orient gate 



His passion now resistless grown, 

He throws his arms from roseate bowers; 

But timid Night, alert, has flown, 
And left her tears upon the flowers. 



94 



ACROSS THE STREET. 




o club-house "swells" who crowd, 
en masse , 
To stare at maidens as they 



pass , — 
On that vain throng, just out of bed, 

Which turns its eyes, but not its head, — 
For adoration decked, arrayed, 

In "stunning" clothes, all "ready-made;" 
A scene like this, to dudish eyes, 

Is like a glimpse of paradise . 



95 



But now and then a clubless man 

May have his day Elysian, 
For, as he homeward plods at night, 

There may from off the car alight 
(Just at the corner where he dwells) 

Some Aphrodite who excels 
The Grecian goddess in the grace 

And beauty of her classic face : - — 
And then, (since luck has turned his way,) 

May learn, perchance, the following day 
That this rare maid lives in the suite 

That faces his, across the street; — 
A creature far more shy than bold; 

With glowing cheeks and hair of gold; 
Whose eyes have stole the skies' own blue; 

Whose lips would pale the poppy's hue; 
Whose form so luscious, ripe and rare, 

'Twould seem to charm the very air 
Through which she moves, with faultless grace, 

To hide, at times, her roguish face. — 



96 






Yes, once I met a celibate 

Who vouched for what I thus relate . 
He proved to be that very man — 

(The one without a club or clan,) 
Who then proceeded to narrate 

The outcome of his harrowing fate : — 

"From out my window, hour by hour, 

I once watched Nature's fairest flower. 
She smiled in most bewitching ways, 

And each month flirted thirty days 
Most ardently, yet so reserved, 

That had bread been thus scantly served, 
I starved each day while lingering yet 

To gaze upon this rare coquette . " 

" So while this maid , in that coy way , 
Thus tortured me from day to day, 

I realized how very fine 

Grandmother Prude had drawn the line 



97 



Permitting, say, a hundred smiles, 
But kept us dumb as two gargoyles." 

"But science, ah, that brought relief, 

Just when I might have come to grief. 
I therefore bought a telephone — 

Which lovers' service oft: had done — 
(Since Madame Grundy's stern decree 

O'erlooked this form of ecstacy,) 
Then drank the nectar, sip by sip, 

In accents from her honied lip, 
Until my brain took wings and flew 

To realms whereof it never knew, 
Where sweet communion was ordained 

And more than former joys attained, 
'Till, Icarous-like, the heated wires 

Were melted by our ardent fires; 
And when, in haste and unawares, 

I dropped to earth to make repairs, 
This charmer stood, at her front door, 

Coquetting' with my janitor ! " 



9 8 



TO MARJOR1E 



(a Dl 



DEBUTANTE 



) 




marjorie, with brow so fair, and 
heart so chaste and pure, 
The world adoring thee beholds 
thy fit investiture; 
For now, in queenly robes thou standst, a bride 

to coming years, 
As smiling Future beckons thee, while stands 

the Past in tears. 
O goddess of the present , thou ! O vision of 

the morrow! 
Thy younger comrades bid adieu with heavy 
heart and sorrow. 



L.ofC. 



99 



May every fond, enchanting dream of child- 
hood's happy hour , 

Bring forth its glad reality, and every bud its 
flower . 

But as life's pathway thou dost tread, and up 
its steeps dost climb, 

Choose for thy comrades Charity, and Hope 
and Faith sublime; — 

Then thou hast taught humanity how justly 
thou hast earned, 

The heavenly radiance from above, that on thy 
head is turned. 



loo 



THE PRODIGAL. 




hy should man loiter by the way- 
A vagrant through each golden 
day? 
And why should he so weary grow 

With countless blessings here below? 
And why complain that he should share 

Such burdens as his fellows bear, 
And live but for life's joys alone, 
Nor grateful be, for every one? 



101 



The mighty oak's concentric ring 

Counts well each oft-recurring Spring; — 
The sands when dropping from the glass 

Hold back the seconds as they pass; — 
The time-worn clock in yonder tower 

Reluctant tolls each passing hour, 
And nought but man, by reckless haste, 

Permits one precious hour to waste, 
Nor like a spendthrift, seeks to borrow 

For use to-day, hours of the morrow. 
Will such a squanderer ever learn 

His lamp of life to wisely burn, 
So that the oil shall feed its ray 

To light his feet at close of day ! 



102 



DEC 19 1902 



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